


Sparkling Black

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Food, Holidays, dorks acting like little kids...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5526920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hewlett and Anna share a quiet moment away from the holiday feast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparkling Black

**Author's Note:**

> A holiday gift for the lovely poeedamerons! <3

“Got a healthy appetite, eh, Major?”

 

Hewlett paused in his admittedly gluttonous task, lowering the plate in a futile attempt to hide the small mountain of food. Still, it didn’t stop his hands from skittering out and purloining three more rolls. He stuffed them next to the potatoes as he smiled.

 

“Indeed, Lieutenant Colonel—”

 

“Oh please—Rupert!” The larger man boomed out a laugh, going to far as to slap Hewlett companionably on the back. The tower of food swayed precariously.

 

“Indeed,” Hewlett repeated, steadying his vegetables “For all its charms, I fear that my critics have at least one point when it comes to naming Setauket a ‘backwater bed.’ It’s not often we get in cuts as fine as this, nor fruit as fresh. Particularly impressive given the weather. Perhaps I _am_ overdoing it though...”

 

Rupert shook his head. “Nonsense. It’s good for the scrawny ones like you to eat their fill.”

 

“Ah... thank you?”

 

“You’re welcome! And besides, it’s the holidays! Enjoy yourself a bit..?”

 

“Edmund.”

  
“That’s right. Edmund, Edmund...” Rupert turned towards the table, already distracted by the tarts. “Eat as much as you please, Edmund.”

 

“You’re too kind,” Hewlett muttered and pushed past to make his escape. He did manage to snag a treat as he left though—something soft and cream-filled, raspberries dotting the top.

 

The crowd was otherwise easy to navigate, everyone else engaged in conversation or their own food. Winter had descended on them remarkably fast. It seemed that no sooner had they won their battle against the rebels than a massive storm had blown in, blanketing Setauket in fields of snow. The reinforcements (Hewlett scoffed) had decided to ‘recover’ here for a month at least, supposedly spreading cheer as the holidays approached. In truth, all it meant was that the poor town residents had that many more bodies to lodge and Richard was charged with hosting the feasts, his house being the only building large enough to accommodate them all. Still, Hewlett couldn’t bring himself to protest too strongly, not when the lieutenants’ connections brought in such delicious fare.

 

There was something to be said for climbing the ranks.

 

What was terribly fascinating though was the manner in which Richard had decided to host their holiday feast. Never one for straying from convention, Hewlett had been quite shocked to learn that there would be no dinner, not in the formal sense at least. Rather than attempting to seat their suddenly tripled numbers, Richard had muttered something about laying out the food and allowing people to choose their own aliment—throughout the entire night, no less! It seemed like quite a lot of work for their cooks, though supposedly they’d been the ones to suggest it. “It’s a Swedish something or other,” Richard had scoffed and lifted his hands in an indication of concession.

 

All in all, Hewlett was pleased. It made his foolish endeavor all the easier.

 

As he wound his way across the room Hewlett spotted the man in question, but he didn’t stop. There was somewhere else he was meant to be. Sneaking through the end of the dining hall, passing the windows rattling with wind, Hewlett crept all the way towards the far closet, hidden in shadow.

 

The door was open just a crack.

 

“Ms. Strong?” Hewlett whispered and a delicate hand appeared. A second later an equally gorgeous face followed.

 

“Come now, Hewlett. ‘ _Anna_ ,’” she emphasized, laughing quietly.

 

“And you are the second person tonight whom I have reminded of _my_ name. You have no more excuse than I.”

 

“Oh hush. _Edmund_ then. Come on.”

 

She reached out and took the plate, beckoning him quickly inside.

 

Hewlett went, though not without some measure of trepidation. What if someone were to see them? He could only imagine the scandal—Setauket’s defender, crawling into a closet with one of the town’s younger ladies, a woman only very recently divorced. The only things that kept him moving were the knowledge that Ms. Strong— _Anna_ —had been the one to suggest this childish distraction, that she was quite capable of taking care of herself, and...

 

... and his own lack of willpower, to be frank.

 

Still, Hewlett closed the door firmly behind him, plunging them into darkness.

 

“I feel like a schoolgirl,” Anna whispered. He could feel her skirts ruffling as she sat back, the soft sigh of her bodice leaning against the wall.

 

“And I a schoolboy.”

 

“Please. I doubt you did anything this shocking as a child.”

 

“Did you?”

 

“I can’t tell you everything, now can I?”

 

Hewlett allowed himself to smile—huge and straining, knowing that she couldn’t see it. “What if I want to know everything?”

 

“Then you must be patient. _I_ for one want food.”

 

It was far from a subtle hint and Hewlett dutifully dictated to her all the goods he’d managed to sneak away from the feast. There were rolls and thin slices of meat, potatoes and harshly cut carrots, some sort of miniaturized meat pie, succulent bits of fruit, even a few springs of mint to finish things off. It was quite the odd picnic, groping about in the dark, attempting to eat without staining their clothes too horribly (they’d need to emerge before the night was through after all). There was not a drop of regret within him though, not when Hewlett periodically reached for food and stumbled across Anna’s hand instead. That was a different sort of sustenance entirely.

 

“It is rather dark,” he commented, the second time he encountered her knee. Hewlett didn’t think it prudent to admit that both times he’d thought it was a potato.

 

“Really,” Anna drawled. “I hadn’t noticed.”

 

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“Mmm,” Hewlett hummed in amusement. “… guilty as charged.”

 

“As am I, of lying by default at least.”

 

There were sounds of rustling. Hewlett felt Anna crawling about—nearly crawling _over_ him—and held his breath in ecstasy. It took him a moment to return from his stupor and realize she was speaking to him.

 

“A match?” Anna’s voice came again, hardly a whisper.

 

Hewlett produced the asked for gift, allowing his hand to linger over hers as the match was passed.

 

Then the moment broke. A second later Hewlett heard the flare of fire and the pungent smell of smoke in their tiny cove. Anna lit a candle, her face awash in a heavenly glow, then startled him by placing a piece of paper directly above it.

 

“Look,” she whispered and pointed up.

 

Hewlett’s breath stuttered as he gazed at the closet’s ceiling. Anna had poked tiny holes in her paper, allowing for the light to shine through in a scattered array of varying brightness. Hewlett fell back on his hands, tipping his head and letting his smile grow, light or no light.

 

Anna smiled too. “I know you’d rather spend time outside. We’ll have to do this again when the weather is nice. When the night skies are clear.”

 

Hewlett closed his eyes. Only briefly. “Is that a promise?”

 

“It is.”

 

“… then I shall hold you to that.”

 

The food was forgotten, as was the knowledge that they would have to rejoin the party sooner rather than later. For now, Hewlett and Anna both leaned back, shoulder to shoulder, picking out constellations in the universe the two had created.


End file.
